


“Alexander.”

by clickingkeyboards



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Trans!Alexander Arcady, supportive best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: Despite his self-proclaimed ability to detect anything and anybody, George Mukherjee is shocked by none other than his own best friend.It’s surprisingly hard to be clinical about something so emotional.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady & George Mukherjee
Kudos: 15





	“Alexander.”

His name is Alexander.

It feels odd to say. These past five years, I would never have guessed that he wore another name inside his skin, and I can usually deduce anything.

I remember, when we were thirteen, commenting that Alexander fidgeted as if trying to wriggle out of his own person. He would tug at his cuffs and tug at his tie and tug at his hair — for it was long back then — as if he was trying to pull his mind out of the body that he wore.

I remember, when we were fourteen, asking why he preferred Hastings to his name. It was as if he had divorced himself from what his parents christened him, choosing to respond to Arcady and Hastings but no nickname in between. He shrugged and said that he simply liked a chosen name more.

I remember, when we were fifteen, asking why he chose to wear such boyish clothes. Even I experimented with makeup but he would flinch as if it burnt him. His response was no response at all.

We are sixteen now, and he looks very different to how he has these past five years. It feels as if I am talking to the person who matches the voice that I have been hearing since I was eleven, like the slightly uncomfortable exterior has come away like the chipped paint on all of our school belongings.

“Alexander, you said?” I say thickly. I’ve never dealt with this before, and it is quite unlike dealing with a case.

“Yes,” he says, and the words match up in an odd way. His face is much the same, but his golden hair has been mostly shorn off and he wears a smart shirt with the outline of a binder beneath, and he sits cross-legged with his feet pressed together. “Alexander.”

“May I call you Alex?”

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I’ve always had nicknames for you, Hastings,” I say with a laugh. “I can’t well call you what everybody else will doubtless call you eventually.”

“I hope so.”

The conversation isn’t flowing right, as if Alexander isn’t entirely there, lost in a haze of thoughts.

“Alex?”

“...yes?” It seems an effort to respond to it, and so I shall endeavour to call him his name as much as possible. “What is it?”

Giving up on pleasantries, I say, “You look miserable. Can I give you a hug?”

“Oh. Um…” He goes pink in blotches, as usual, and presses a hand to his face as he thinks. “Really?”

“Oh, you idiot.” With as much feeling as I can muster — only a fifth of what I really feel — I reach over and tug his hand away from his face. “You’re my best friend,  _ Alexander  _ Arcady, and you need a damn hug because you look like you want to die. Alright?”

He laughs, and he doesn’t seem able to stop. His laugh has been contagious since we were eleven and so I can’t stop myself bursting out laughing too. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, a hug sounds nice.”

He tries to pretend that he isn’t crying when I hug him — like I don’t know him like the back of my hand — and his breath catches when I say, “Alexander.”


End file.
